Waves and Wonders
by starry19
Summary: '"This is a little different from the last sunset we saw together, isn't it?" he murmured. She smiled, though there was no humor in it. "A little," she agreed. '
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: I think I have a problem. Three one-shots in like 10 days. I'm so excited for November 30 to get here that I can't think about anything else right now.

If you haven't/aren't, I encourage you all to vote for The Mentalist in the TV Crime Drama category of the People's Choice Awards. And vote a LOT - there isn't a limit. It'd be awesome if we could win this year!

**Waves and Wonders**

She took another long look in the mirror. This was as pointless as the last time she had done this, not five minutes ago. She'd done very little since, certainly not enough to smudge her make-up or ruin her hair. In fact, the only thing that had changed was that her cheeks were redder than they had been.

In another two minutes, she was going downstairs to the hotel bar. That wasn't such a big deal, though she would have normally preferred to simply have a beer in her room. No, the problem was that she was meeting _Jane_ for a drink.

And that was giving her all sorts of fits.

This entire day was.

_Good_ fits, she hastily amended, but fits none the less.

She was officially on vacation for the next four days, as was Jane. Actually, Jane was suspended thanks to incurring the TSA's wrath and Abbott had given her the time to rearrange her life again. However, Jane had asked her to spend the night in the Keys before flying back to Austin, and she'd agreed.

She hadn't seen him in hours, not since they'd left the airport. He'd had to go make formal apologies and meet with the Miami bureau agents to give his statement about the case he'd closed. She'd have to ask him about that later. Or not. It didn't seem important now.

He'd called her on his way back to the small island, making sure she'd gotten back to her room, and then had asked, almost shyly, if she'd like to meet him for drinks and dinner that evening.

With time to kill, she'd gone shopping in the hotel's boutique. After everything that had happened, she just couldn't see herself wearing one of the dresses he'd bought for his stupid plan, though she was hoping someday she could get over it.

She'd selected something floaty and breezy, not her usual style, but then again, nothing was usual about today. She added new shoes, too, ignoring the price tag.

The hell with it. She was going to be self-indulgent today.

Hours later, hair pulled loosely up, new wardrobe in place, she found that the idea of going downstairs was more than a little terrifying.

Not as scary as getting off of a plane, throwing a life with a stable, good man away. Not even as scary as walking into that interrogation room and confronting him about what he'd said.

But still scary.

Suddenly, getting a drink to settle her nerves before she saw him again looked massively appealing.

She sank gratefully into an empty bar stool and ordered a glass of wine, taking a large gulp as soon as it was front of her. She knew it was all in her head, but she immediately felt a bit more steady.

Right up until she felt the feather-light pressure of fingers on her lower back. Startled, she looked up.

Jane was smiling at her, that joyful, infectious grin he had when he was genuinely happy. She didn't think she'd ever seen it this broad though.

"Hi," he said, still barely touching her. "You look beautiful."

"Hi, thank you," she managed to get out, smiling like an idiot a bit herself.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and she took another drink. His eyes followed the movement of her glass, lingering on her lips, and she swallowed with some difficulty.

"I figured you'd be down here drinking tequila shots," he teased.

"When I lived in Washington," she told him, "I got really into wine. There was a local vineyard there that did an amazing job." No need to tell him that she drank a great deal of the stuff while poring over his letters. Anything to numb the pain, just a touch.

He took the glass from her hand and took a sip. "Sweet," he commented. She hardly noticed, distracted by the implied intimacy of the gesture. His fingers were still on her back. "Some day," he went on, "I want to see where you lived. I find it strange, not being able to picture where you were for two years."

"I understand that," she said, smiling now. "I have this idea in my head about what your little island looked like, but I'm sure I'm way off."

His eyes were warm. "Well, then we'll go there, too."

"Okay," she whispered, the idea of the promise of a future with him intoxicating.

He held her smile for a moment longer before turning to the bartender and ordering a pina colada.

When their drinks were finished, they passed through to the dining room. Jane had taken her hand as they walked, loosely twining their fingers.

This seemed so surreal.

He told her about the case over dinner, embellishing a bit, she was sure, but by the end, she was laughing out loud, wiping her eyes with her napkin.

When she glanced up, the expression on Jane's face was arrested, intense.

Shy now, she ducked her head again. "Stop looking at me like that," she almost whispered.

Jane reached across the table and gently ran the backs of his fingers down her cheekbone. "No," he said quietly, and she instinctively met his eyes. "For the first time, I don't have to hide what I feel for you, so I'm not going to."

She found it difficult to focus on much of anything after that.

Around sunset, they found themselves outside on the wide deck that overlooked the beach in the back of the hotel. She was leaning against the wooden railings, face turned to the soft breeze that was drifting in from the ocean.

"You're so beautiful," Jane whispered, close to her ear, softly stroking the back of her neck.

It suddenly struck her that she and Jane hadn't even embraced properly since he'd kissed her. Strange - they'd had plenty of opportunities.

She turned to him, looked up at his face. She saw love, affection, and...fear?

And then she realized - he _was_ afraid. As scared as she had been, this had to be worse for him. He'd had to overcome so much to be in this moment with her, all of the habits and defense mechanisms he'd adopted over the past decade, all of the walls he'd put up. He'd kept all of his touches light, gentle, barely there.

Perhaps she could meet him halfway, ease this process along.

Slowly, telegraphing what she was going to do, she reached for him, taking both of his hands and pulling his arms around her, leaning back against his chest as she resumed her observance of sunset.

She could feel his breath against her hair. In another moment, he rested his chin on her shoulder, and they existed in peaceful silence.

"This is a little different from the last sunset we saw together, isn't it?" he murmured.

She smiled, though there was no humor in it. "A little," she agreed.

"I loved you then, too," he said unexpectedly, and her heart skipped a beat. "Just so you know."

She closed her eyes, focused on the feel of him behind her, solid, real. "I think I knew then. Or at least, I wanted to believe you did. I so wanted you to say it that night," she admitted, then wondered if she had made a mistake.

His arms tightened around her. "I almost did," he said. "After all, I wasn't sure if I was going to make it back." He paused, and she felt him kiss her hair. "But I needed to keep you safe," he whispered. "I needed to keep you away from the situation so I could think. If I told you I loved you that night, I thought there was a pretty good chance you'd say it back. And there was no way I could have left you after that."

Something loosened in her chest, and she realized suddenly how much she had needed to hear him say that, to tell her _why_. She had carried the hurt of those last days around with her for years. It was beyond time to let it go.

"I love you," she said.

She swore she felt him shudder, and it was a moment before he spoke. "I love you," he told her hair.

The sky had changed to dark blue before she moved or spoke again. Behind her, Jane had been silent, too, occasionally toying with her fingers where they rested against his.

"What now?" she asked, then hastily added, "I mean about tonight." It was far, far too early to talk about the other meaning her question could have had.

"Hmm," he murmured. "Well, I haven't sleep in about two days, due to some very poor planning on my part, and also, I think my ankle is swelling again."

Eyes wide, she turned to him, stepped away. "Oh my God, Jane! Why didn't you say something?" She glanced down. He had both shoes on, meaning if there was some swelling, it had too be terribly uncomfortable.

His smile was soft. "Because what I was doing what much more important."

Her lips tilted up. "And that's very sweet, but you're an idiot. You need to get off your feet and sleep." She ignored her disappointment that their evening would be cut short.

"That sounds like an excellent plan," he said, and she felt a little upset that he wasn't regretful about their abbreviated time together.

But then he found her hands, pulled her against him. "Teresa," he whispered into her ear. "Can I hold you tonight?"

Unable to speak, she nodded, then hastily swiped at an unexpected tear, her face pressed to his shoulder.

Fifteen minutes later, clad in yoga pants and a baggy t-shirt, she was slipping into Jane's bed. Too late, she wished she would have bought some sort of elegant pajamas today as well. But judging by Jane's smile, he didn't appear to mind.

This was the first time she'd seen him this...undressed, she supposed. Pajama pants and a white t-shirt were items she'd never been able to picture him in before. He held out his arms and she willingly snuggled into him, the familiar scent of his cologne surrounding her.

After a moment, he reached over her and turned off the bedside lamp, and they breathed together in the darkness.

Jane had opened a window earlier, and she could hear the distant crashing of the waves. On a whim, and simply because she could, she gently ran a hand through those golden curls of his.

She could see his sleepy smile even in the negligible amount of light coming into the room. He had never been more open to her.

Propping herself on one elbow, she softly traced his lips with the tips of her fingers, then leaned down and kissed him.

He touched her face, lips warm and pliant beneath hers, one arm curled around her waist.

This was a fantasy come to life. She still wasn't sure how to react, what to do, when to stop..._if_ she should stop.

However, instinctively, she knew tonight wasn't the night to take this the rest of the way. It was too new, touching him, being touched. She needed some time to wrap her mind around it, and so did he.

So she tucked herself back into his side, head against his heart, smiling to herself _because she had just kissed Patrick Jane goodnight._

"Sleep well, Teresa," he whispered. "I'm so glad I get to see you when I wake up."

She remembered his words from the plane, and she kissed his chest. "Me, too," she told him.

Outside, the waves continued to roll in, breaking on the beach. Inside, for the first time, she felt like, perhaps, _she_ wasn't breaking any more.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**: Did this story need a chapter two? I don't even care.

**Waves and Wonders**

**Chapter Two**

He woke early, the light breeze from the ocean still gently sweeping into the room. Immediately, he was aware of Lisbon tucked into his side, all warmth and softness. Her cheeks were pink, dark hair curling across her pillow, both of her arms wrapped around one of his.

He softly brushed the wayward tendrils of hair aside, exposing the pale skin of her neck, ran his knuckles up and down the smooth column of her throat.

It felt good, touching her this way. Almost as good as it felt to be touched.

Not quite 24 hours ago, he'd been sitting in an interrogation room, quietly wondering if the image of Lisbon crying because he'd found a way to hurt her again would be the last picture he'd ever have of her.

Since then, he'd learned what she tasted like, how it felt to hear her say she loved him, and that she smiled in her sleep when he kissed her forehead.

All supremely important things. The most important things he had learned in a lifetime, in fact.

Lisbon moved slightly, trying to snuggle in closer, eyes still closed. In truth, he was a bit scared for when she would wake up. Everything was perfect in this moment - he could live in it forever, if someone would only suspend time.

He was blissful now, her sleeping weight precious in his arms.

What would happen later? How did they go about being together?

He hadn't been in a relationship in an eternity, and he was a profoundly different man now than he had been then.

One thing he was certain of - they would do this on her terms, by her rules, at least when it was still so new. He'd made the poor woman live her life under his conditions for thirteen years. It was past time for some reciprocation.

He was nervous for what that would entail. She would demand honesty, expect him to be open. In a moment, some of his fears ebbed. He realized he had been nothing _but_ honest and open with her for the past thirty six hours, and the only thing that had felt was extraordinary good.

Because of the way he had lived his life, it was terrifying, putting his heart in someone else's hands. She could hurt him, deeply, permanently.

But that was now a risk he had to take.

Lisbon shifted again, and he watched, fascinated, as her lashes rose. "Good morning, sweetheart," he whispered, the endearment slipping out without thought.

She smiled up at him, sleepily, sweetly. "Morning," she murmured, stretching under the covers before settling back against his chest.

He knew when to take a hint. Wrapping both arms back around her, he curled close, nose almost touching the back of her neck, and she hummed softly in approval. "Sleep well?" he asked, breathing in the scent of her skin.

"Very," she replied, fingers sliding between his. "You?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," he answered. This was true. Lisbon, not having any of his particular demons, couldn't imagine what it felt like to find peace after so long in tumult.

There were a few minutes of silence, but there was nothing uncomfortable about in. On the contrary, it was content, two people realizing they were both finally were they wanted to be.

"I love you so much," he breathed into her hair, and he swore she shivered.

"I love you, too," came her sure answer, and it was impossible now to not believe her, impossible now to not _know_ he was loved.

She rolled to face him, then frowned, reaching up. He didn't understand until he felt her brush at his cheeks; he was in tears. "Sorry," he whispered, a touch embarrassed. "I'm a little emotional, I guess. It's been a strange couple of days."

A vast understatement, if he'd ever made one.

Lisbon smiled tenderly at him, eyes warm and amused. Her hands slid into his hair, and he had to close his eyes at the sensation. She tugged gently on him, and he leaned down, finding her lips.

This was the third time they'd kissed. He was going to make a point to remember every single one.

He was braver this time, coaxing her mouth open, feeling his blood surge when her tongue touched his. His hand fell to her waist, fingers brushing the downy skin that was exposed there. In an instant, it was the most intimate they had ever been.

He kissed her neck, ran his nose across her collarbone, nuzzled into the cotton of her shirt where it covered the valley between her breasts.

Not wanting to push, he raised his head and gave her a wide smile.

She was a little flushed, and it made him inordinately pleased.

He stole a quick kiss (_number four_, he noted), then rested his head on her chest, listening to her heart resume its normal rhythm. She stroked his hair, his shoulders, touch soothing and exhilarating all at once.

"This is a nice way to wake up," Lisbon noted, voice teasing.

He hummed in agreement. Personally, he hoped they could wake up this way every morning. It was still too early to say such things out loud, however. "It was a nice way to fall asleep, too," he nearly whispered instead.

He felt her take a deep breath. "Maybe we could do it again tonight?" She tried hard to sound light, confident, but he heard the underlying tension.

"Hm," he mused. "That depends. Which state would you like to wake up in - Texas or Florida?"

Her fingers continued playing with his hair, and he resisted the urge to purr. "Well," she said, "I do have a house in Texas. One that is suddenly in need of unpacking."

He smiled against her shirt, mostly in relief. One more affirmation that she wasn't leaving. "Texas it is then."

Mentally, he started to make a list of things that needed to get accomplished. Booking a flight, for one. Ordering breakfast was certainly on the agenda as well. Right now, however, he simply couldn't bring himself to move, to extract himself from the warm circle of her arms.

He had been so tired for years now, so cold. All he wanted was a soft place to land. And here he was, surrounded by gentle caresses and down comforters, silky hair and plush pillows. If he was a religious man, he might have thought that this was a little like heaven, where the weary finally get to rest.

Twenty minutes later, all that had been accomplished was that he had fallen back asleep.

When he woke, he was in the bed by himself, and he frowned. _Not_ what he wanted.

He propped himself up on his elbows, peering blearily around the room. Lisbon was visible in the bathroom, hair pulled up again, applying make-up. He saw her reflection in the mirror look up, probably in response to the rustling of the covers. When she noticed his eyes were open, she smiled and turned.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty. I was wondering if you were going to be dead to the world for the rest of the day." She was dressed casually in jeans and a floaty-looking top. She looked...happy.

He smiled a little wryly. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

She crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed, pushing his hair off of his forehead. "Because you're cute when you're sleeping."

His grin turned stupid, and he caught her hand, kissing her knuckles.

"You might want to get upright," she went on, smiling herself. "Room service will be here any minute, and after that, we need to head for the airport."

Typical Lisbon. Already taking care of everything.

He tugged on the end of her ponytail, pulled her in for a light kiss (_five_). "Have I mentioned that I adore you?"

Her cheeks were rosy as she answered. "Not in about two hours."

He kissed her again. _Six_. "I adore you."

And then her arms were loosely around his neck, her forehead on his shoulder. He could feel her smiling.

Room service chose then to knock, and he sighed as he flipped back the blankets and slid out of bed.

She had ordered him eggs, and he grinned as he tried to eat and dress at the same time. Lisbon flitted around the room, throwing things in bags and re-checking things on her phone. It buzzed once, and he saw a shadow cross her face as she read her new message.

He would have bet anything that it was Pike.

Almost fearful, he watched her type out a reply, then shove the device in her pocket. In another moment, she had crossed to where he stood buttoning the cuffs on his shirt and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

His eyes fluttered shut for a second. Regardless of Pike, she was still his.

He turned, tucking her head beneath his chin, fingers laced at the small of her back. "Ready to go home?" he murmured.

Home. Now there was novel concept.

Apparently, Lisbon felt the same way, for he saw goosebumps on her exposed skin. "Yes," she whispered to him, lips grazing his shirt as she spoke.

Four hours later, they touched down in Austin, and he let out a deep breath.

The rest of the day was spent reorganizing her house. Basically, he followed her orders, having sadly no idea where most of her things went. He'd never spent much time in her house before, either in Texas or California.

They took several breaks, usually at his insistence, and he refused to let her get back to work without kissing her at least once. Once, this lead to a fairly intense make-out session amidst the open boxes that housed her kitchen, and he wondered if he'd ever be able to look at saucepans again without getting a little aroused.

She was the one that pulled away, smiling even if her breathing was rapid. He could still feel her bare skin against his fingers.

It was late in the evening when she declared work done for the day.

"You know," she remarked conversationally, sitting next to him on the couch and handing him a glass of wine, "you never did tell me if we could go to sleep the same way we did last night."

"That's true," he admitted, pausing to clink his glass lightly against hers. "What do you think? Can we manage it?"

She kissed him (_twenty one_) and he tasted wine. "Won't know unless we try." Abruptly, her smile faded. "I mean, if you want."

He frowned, setting both of their glasses down. "And why would I _not_?"

She shrugged, a little helplessly. "I don't know," she said, sounding flustered. "I just...I don't want to rush you. You haven't been with anyone in...a really long time, and I don't know what's too much."

He blinked. This was unexpected. He took her hands, running his thumbs across her wrists. "You're right," he told her quietly. "I haven't done this in a very, very long time." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Until now, until yesterday, I've been alone, almost completely. I've held myself apart, pulled away. It was...difficult." That was a definite understatement. "And now, you've given me what I never thought I'd have again." Her eyes were wet, and he absently brushed a tear away from her pale cheek. "I love you," he whispered. "And I can't imagine not wanting to fall asleep with you in my arms ever again."

Another tear spilled over his fingers, and he took her face in his hands. "Okay," she choked out, voice thick.

He stood, held out a palm to her. "Let's go to bed."

For the second night in a row, she slept on his chest.

And, for the second night in a row, he got to sleep in a real bed. He didn't remember the last time that had happened. Tonight was better though. It was _Lisbon's_ bed. Someday, he hoped it would be _theirs_.

The idea of a home, of having somewhere he belonged, was powerful. Breathtaking. He was unprepared for the wave of want that crashed into him, and he swallowed hard.

In her sleep, reacting to his tension, Lisbon snuggled deeper into his embrace, fingers sliding across his stomach in an unconscious caress.

Yes, he belonged here.


End file.
